


Cheerleader

by FuzzyMonk



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, I don't actually have a clue what to put here, Moira is bad at social cues, both are sweeties though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 19:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16144127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuzzyMonk/pseuds/FuzzyMonk
Summary: As Moira watches, she wonders.





	Cheerleader

Moira O’Deorain stood in the only spot of shade as the sun rose over Watchpoint: Gibraltar. She had fair skin and should avoid the sun when she could. At least, that was the excuse she gave herself and anyone else who may have come upon her. The fact that she was hidden, and could potentially be considered spying, was absolutely irrelevant. Nestled in a corner of stacked supplies, she leaned against the tarp and watched the display in front of her.

Tight, black yoga pants, name brand tennis shoes, that perfect fucking hair. Angela looked like a goddamn cheerleader. Moira thought back to her secondary school days. All those young girls with their skirts rolled up at the waist to show more thigh. Their inane, incessant laughter, the emphasis they put onto every little motion. The way they sneered and snarked behind her back in science class, perfectly manicured nails pointing at her slacks and short hair.

Moira had trouble reading social situations, interpreting facial expressions. She knew when those cheerleaders were laughing at her, but she couldn’t figure out why. For someone so brilliant, it was agonizing.

Angela looked just like them. Moira should have hated her. Yet, she couldn’t look away.

Angela had started with yoga. In the pink, pre-dawn light with the tide coming in, she practiced her breathing. Moira watched her thigh flex as Angela knelt into a lunge, arms moving slowly around her. Moira didn’t claim to know anything about yoga, but the doctor seemed at peace even as she contorted her body in impressive ways.

She averted her eyes when Angela did the downward dog. For a moment…anyway. The truth is, if Moira could look away, she wouldn’t even be here at the crack of dawn spying on someone’s private moment. Since they’d first met, she found herself drawn to Angela. The subtle sculpting of her face, the way her accent rose and lilted, those long fingers with gentle touches. Everything about Angela made her curious, picked at her inquiring mind and begged her to investigate.

Moira knew what attraction was. She wasn’t a goddamn idiot. She was attracted to Angela. But she’d been attracted to people before. Something about the Swiss woman was different. And it was that outlier, that unknown, that settled her into this shadowed corner.

Downward dog completed, Angela rose, arms over her head as she made her way to the wall where her bo-staff rested. She picked it up and slotted it straight up behind her arm, a move practiced a thousand times over. Moira interlocked her fingers and watched as the good doctor stood and took a deep breath before lunging into a series of defensive moves. It was some sort of altered aikido, perhaps tailored to Angela’s needs. They were quite specific, after all.

Always lanky and too tall, Moira admired the way the doctor moved. Graceful and confident, feet sliding along the grass as if she was sure it would catch her. Moira never quite trusted the ground, tongue meeting lips as Angela spun the staff impressively fast in her palms. She wanted to lick the sheen of sweat from Angela’s bicep, feel the muscles of her abdomen flex beneath her lips. She wanted to grip that quiet strength and make it come undone.

Methods aside, Moira always got what she wanted.

But in the same vein, something about Angela made her hesitant, afraid. Never one to step around the truth, Moira sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Worth made her sit in the shadows, made her watch from afar. She was ethically ambiguous, brutish, determined, odd. Angela was the epitome of the angelic flight suit she wore. And she was beautiful, a good ten years younger, beloved by all. Moira knew this was just a flight of fancy. It was just a matter time before she’d be able to talk herself out of visiting and move on to more important things. But until then, she would sit and suffer.

So caught up in her self-pity, Moira failed to slink into the corner as Angela turned and brought the staff to the ground. She watched those blue eyes flicker up, away, and then back with a purpose. She’d been found. Angela tilted her head, staff slotting behind her arm again as she made her way over.

Moira had only watched the doctor from afar. As she neared, she could see the sweat glistening along subtle abs, the hint of ribs that appeared with each heavy breath. She could see the mottled stains of sweat on Angela’s sports bra, the redness to her cheeks. When she got close enough, Moira could even smell her. A blend of deodorant and her own scent, not at all unpleasant. Moira inhaled sharply through her nose, keeping her back straight as Angela formed a smile.

“Are you spying on me, Doctor O’Deorain?” Angela asked, bringing the back of her hand across her forehead.

Moira swallowed, hands clasping behind her back. “Yes.”

Angela blinked at the honesty, smile turning curious. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Any reason?”

Moira shrugged. “You are attractive, and I am intrigued.”

Angela’s mouth fell open for a moment, cheeks turning redder. “Well, that was blunt.”

“Forgive me, I’m told I lack awareness in social cues.”

Angela laughed quietly and nodded. Moira took it upon herself to continue.

“I apologize if I have made you uncomfortable and will desist if that is the case. I like watching you move.”

To Angela’s credit, and Moira’s relief, she seemed more curious than anything else. At least, she didn’t look angry. Moira had gotten quite competent at recognizing anger. Angela tilted her head to the side, brilliant mind working just as quickly as Moira’s. Moira liked that, too, having an intellectual equal even if they didn’t always see eye to eye.

She didn’t need to dumb down her words or explain the methods of her research when speaking to Angela. The doctor also knew better than most how to speak to her. Her bluntness was not taken as offensive or brusque. Angela never seemed bothered by the things she said or the way she said them. She spoke in clear, concise ways that Moira appreciated. And that was rare, comforting.

“What is your plan, then, Moira? To simply watch day after day?”

“If you will allow it.”

“You desire nothing further?”

“I do.”

“What do you plan to do about it?”

“Nothing.”

Angela leaned against her staff. If there was something to read in her expression it was lost on the taller woman. But it was distracting to watch the rising sun catch the blue of her eyes and highlight the contours of her face.

“Why is that?”

Moira licked her lips and looked at the ground. The laughter of those cheerleaders replayed in her mind. Angela’s hair looked like spun gold in the light. “Because we are very different. And I have not noticed any reciprocating interest from you.”

“Forgive me, Moira, but would you notice a reciprocating interest?”

There was nothing to forgive. Most people apologized unnecessarily, but Moira didn’t press the matter. Instead she gave a single nod. “An astute point. Very well, I would like to take you courting. Do you agree?”

Angela laughed. But it was not cruel like her memories. It was joyous. Moira allowed herself to smile. She very much liked the sound. She would tell Angela that, when the time was right.

“Shall we start with breakfast?” Angela asked. “I just need to shower. I’m sure you’ve noticed I stink.”

Moira shook her head. “You smell, but you do not stink. I quite like it, actually.”

Angela’s teeth ran over her bottom lip. Moira didn't know what that meant. But instead of speaking, Angela looped her arm through Moira’s. “Let’s go, then.”

Moira looked down at the doctor and nodded. As they walked towards the mess hall, the cruel laughter in Moira’s mind faded, and was replaced with the sound of Angela’s voice.  

 


End file.
